


hitting the target

by Skyuni123



Series: One-Off Media Ficlets [17]
Category: Robin Hood (2018)
Genre: Emotionally Repressed, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, M/M, Multi, Play Fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23648404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: post-everything, robin, will and marian try to make things work.
Relationships: Marian/Robin of Loxley/Will Scarlet
Series: One-Off Media Ficlets [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1108839
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	hitting the target

Robin of Loxley’s first day as a proper outlaw - that is, no running back inside his mansion when things got tough, no walls, no infrastructure - started with a return to mundanity that none would expect.

Washing his clothes in a nearby river. 

It was a nice day. Picturesque, almost. The sun shone down onto the river, sent little bulbs of light reflecting off in every direction, and the birds were singing.

After the manicism of the last few nights, it was oddly nice. 

They’d set their camp somewhere along the banks of a creek - sent the refugees from the mines up slightly to the south in a clearing where it was safer - and slept the night away under their makeshift tents. 

Marian and Robin slept together, of course. They curled up, used the warmth of their bodies to soothe the bloodshed from the minds. Tuck snored loudly under his covers from the other end of the clearing, and John thumped him in the ribs occasionally to try and keep him quiet. 

In the third tent was the injured.

Will Scarlet.

Champion of the people, reluctant hero, absolute thorn in Robin’s side.

They’d dragged him from the ruins of the rebellion and set him to healing, but it had been a near thing. He’d hardly been cognizant when they’d done it, and hadn’t seemed especially happy since.

But, alas. They had survived. They’d pulled the dredges of Nottingham from the mines and given them a better life.

(Or at least Robin hoped they had.) 

He winced as he pulled his shirt over his head. The material was thick, matted with blood from his arrow wound, and it stuck to his skin as he tugged it away. To put it affectionately, it fucking hurt. He’d been lucky that the arrow hadn’t struck any deeper.

The blood took a while to scrub out of the shirt and he managed to reopen the wound on his chest while he was rubbing at it. Damn. He pressed the shirt to the wound and sat back on the edge of the river, grimacing. That piece of clothing would be heading straight to the rag pile, it seemed.

“You look like shit.” The rough, Irish voice behind him nearly distracted him from the pain.

There was absolutely no need to guess who it was. He turned, and nearly dropped the shirt in shock. It didn’t take a lot to faze him - the war had beaten that out of him - but seeing Will in the daylight was a shock. “You’re saying  _ I  _ look like shit, mate, have you seen yourself?”

Though some of his face was bandaged, there was bits of inflamed tissue poking out around the edges, coated liberally in various poultices. Will didn’t look well.

Robin didn’t even  _ like  _ the man and he could still see that.

“Yes, well, these things happen.” Will sat down beside him, more than a little gingerly, and started to pull off his own clothes and dunk them in the river. “If you hadn’t distracted me, I wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

“Not my fault you can’t keep your eyes to yourself.”

“Perhaps,” said Will, and then said nothing more. 

They both busied themselves with washing their clothes for some time. It didn’t feel uncomfortable, not quite, but there was clearly matters hanging in the air between them. 

Robin flipped his hair out of the water and brushed it off his face. It felt good to get the dust and blood out of it, though it was still a damp, strange mass on the top of his head. He had considered something while dowsing his head underwater. "Why are you even talking to me, mate? We were hardly on the best of terms before this, and now - I know you saw me kissing Marian. You've lost half your face partly because of me! Surely you must be pissed." 

Will pulled his shirt out of the river, twisted it in two and squeezed a lot of the water out before answering. His biceps flexed, alarmingly. Robin had been through a literal war and John's training and he still didn't look like that. The man could probably snap him in two if he tried hard enough.

"You can have her." Will said, gruffly, and then spread the shirt out on a rock to dry. 

“I don’t own her, mate. She’s her own woman.” Robin, as he was wont to do, didn't just leave it. "You said something similar back in Nottingham when you were screaming in my face. I know. But why?" 

"I don't... feel the need to fight with you any more, Hood. It'd be a waste of my time." 

"A waste of your time?" Robin, despite his and Will's significant injuries and general exhaustion, was about ready to square up and fight the older man. "I'll show you what's a waste of your-" 

"Robin!" Will snapped, "Be the bigger man. Shut up. I'm trying to apologise." 

_ Oh, he wants to apologise _ . Robin thought, moodily, but didn't say anything more.

"I'm only going to say this once, so listen up." Will didn't even attempt to make eye contact, just kept on washing blood out from between his fingers. "You were right." 

"What was that?" Robin asked, ever the shit-stirrer, and that was enough to get Will to look up and glare at him. 

"I'm not going to say it again. Your plan, despite every single one of its terrible and predictable faults, worked. You helped a lot of Nottingham, and we've stopped whatever deal was going on with Arabia. I've been fighting with policy for years now... but perhaps I should have tried your way a little bit earlier." 

"Is that just politician-speak for 'I'm sorry'?" 

"Don't push your luck, Hood." Will said, and then splashed him, needlessly, while washing up his forearms. 

"Oh, that's it." Robin replied, and then splashed him back. "You're on." 

The two young men, despite their differences and general ill health, ended up roughhousing in the river over nothing in particular. They only stopped when Robin wavered, stumbled about on his feet, and collapsed to his knees on the riverbank, bleeding profusely from the wound in his side. It was almost penance. 

They weren’t friends, by the end, but they possibly could be.

  
  


Their first week in the camp was spent recovering. Though the wild energy that pulsed through Robin’s heart had sustained him while pulling off raids in Nottingham, it took a couple of days of downtime to realise just how exhausted he was.

Just how exhausted they all were.

The refugees were matted with troubles, exhausted with change. Though their camp was makeshift, it was far more than any of them had had in the mines, and they were happy with it.

  
At least, that was what Robin thought. He couldn’t really tell for sure, and he didn’t want to ask. 

Will, Marian and John set to helping the refugees adapt, and he started planning. They’d need a constant source of income. A way to help more people taken by the kingdom. Places to sleep, to hide, to run to. The forests would do for the latter, but they couldn’t take vulnerable refugees on the run with them. They’d have to find them a home.

  
  


Mood souring, his thoughts turned to the wildcard in their mix. Scarlet. He’d have to face him sometime - have to have it out on an even playing field and see what happened. His face was healing, he’d probably get his good looks back despite the fire, and Robin would be dead if he did.

Will still seemed set on annoying him. It wasn’t anything he did, or anything he said - it was just his mere existence that was enough. 

Robin needed to do something about it. He would fight him. A victory would make him look good in both the eyes of Marian and the rest of the group, and he was sure that knocking Will on his back would get his damn face out of his head. 

He mentioned his plan to Marian and she sighed, rolled her eyes heavily and just said, "Or you could talk to him. Like a normal former-Lord. Using your words?" 

He could just talk to Will, but Will didn't seem much keen on talking whenever he approached him. Just more... rageful. More set in his ways. Of course.

Robin still felt strange whenever he saw Marian and Will together, enjoying themselves, looking happy and set to their tasks, but he didn't do anything about it. He was trying to be reasonable, for both their and the refugees' sake.

So, they devised a plan. They'd set the refugees up, using the stolen gold, find them places to live - whether in the forest or without - and liberate more when they needed it. 

Robin delegated John as his right-hand man - they were equal in almost all respects, but John didn't actually want the position - and then gave the rest of their group their orders. It was only Will who decided to be a problem. 

"I want more power." He said, cornering Robin against the edge of an old tree stump, somewhere about five days into their mission. 

"Yes, well I think we've recognised how bad that can be." Robin replied, grinning wildly and cheekily at the other man. 

And then, suddenly, they were fighting. Robin wasn't quite sure who started it, but it ended up with the pair of them on the ground, Robin's nose bleeding, and Will clutching at his dislocated arm. 

"Will you two never learn?" John said, furious, and pulled them both apart. "Do you want to continue to live free? There's no chance in the kingdoms if you two keep on fighting." And then, like a schoolteacher looking after two disobedient pupils, he said, "Apologise." 

Knowing that John wouldn't let them leave until they did, Robin stuck out his hand towards Will's dislocated arm and said, "Sorry, Will. No hard feelings?" but there wasn't really an ounce of truth about it at all. 

"Gods, you're such a dick." Will said, completely ignoring the hand, and then they were fighting again. 

"You two need to learn to get along." John said, and hauled them both to their feet. "We cannot have a rebellion based on such childishness. Get out of here." 

He threw them in opposite directions and Will slipped on the muddy ground and fell straight on his face. 

Robin winced, just a little. That probably had hurt his dislocated arm even more. Oh well.

Later, Marian wasn't happy with him. It was a trend he'd been noticing, upon thinking about it. She was reluctant to kiss him, and when they bed down for the night, she completely refused to let him wrap an arm around her at all.

"What's wrong?" He said, though he was fairly sure he knew the answer.

"Could you just try to get along with him?" She asked.

"Who?" He replied, though he knew.

"Don't be a fool." She said, and socked him in the ribs, right where she knew it'd hurt. "You two got along once."

"That was until he tried to steal you."

"Ugh." She spat. "I am not a prize to be stolen, Robin. If that is all you see me as, I'm going to bed down with John. Don't start another fight with Will."

And with that, she left.

He stared after her, confused beyond belief. Women. He'd never understand them.

Things all came to a head about three days later, once they'd managed to resettle all the refugees, liberate more gold and found them all a good camp to live at. They had managed to steal a ton of alcohol too, so they were all getting rip-roaringly drunk around a campfire, joyous and buoyant.

Marian was happy, too, in a way that he rarely saw from her. She was relaxed, at peace, at one with the world, and far more affectionate than usual.

"You're a good man, Robin." She slurred, draping her head onto his chest and running her fingers through the ties on his shirt. "You've done a lot of good things."

"I have, love." He replied, and stopped her from undoing his shirt. It wasn't the time nor the place, no matter how much the idea interested him. "You have too."

"Aww, thank you." She sighed, kissing him quickly on the lips and then dropping her head back down to his chest. "I love you."

"Love you too." He replies, and nuzzled his cheek on her hair.

He just happened to look over at Will, and he was clearly furious about it all. Given up on Marian, had he? It certainly didn't look like it.

"I do love young love." Tuck said, and raised his flagon to the air. No-one knew if it was actually wine or not, so he was potentially blaspheming, but also potentially not. "To young 

love."

"To love." One of the others said. "Young or otherwise."

Robin couldn't really tell who, it was very dark in the forest and he was rather pissed, but he agreed. "To love!"

He nearly fell flat on his face as he drank his wine down, but it was the gesture that mattered.

They played a variety of games around the campfire - word games, dirty games, storytelling - little fun things that didn't matter much and made the night pass by even quicker.

Robin was possibly the drunkest he had ever been in his life and he'd definitely be hungover in the morning, but he was having such a good time that it didn't really matter.

"Alright - I've got one." Tuck slurred, but then again, it was possible that he was just doing it for effect. "Fool or fable?"

Everyone around the fire groaned, Will included, but no-one actually said no. Fool or fable was a silly game, mostly for children, where one person had to pick either the Fool - where they'd have to perform some kind of silly task - or the Fable - where they'd have to tell a story that was either true or false, then the askee had to guess which it was - the loser having to perform a forfeit. It was almost definitely just for children, but when they played it as adults, anyone that wimped out had to drink a flagon down.

Robin wanted to play it. He sloshed beer over himself as he said, "John. Fool or fable?"

"This game is for children." John replied, but he was pretty pissed then himself. "Fable."

They played a few rounds, going around the circle counterclockwise. Robin made a story up about rabbit-hunting, completely on the fly, which wasn't very good and also obviously a lie - so he had to drink a flagon in forfeit.

He was beginning to feel the alcohol. 

It was getting to be a bit too much, when Marian said, "Will. Fool or fable?"

"This... is a child’s game." Will replied, despite the fact he'd performed two fool's tasks already. "Fool."

"Will just doesn't want to tell us his secrets." Robin said, very certain that that was true.

"I don't have any secrets." Will replied, and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm sure you don't," Robin started, just ready for a fight, "I bet-"

"I'm tired of this nonsense." Marian said, and leaned back against a tree. "Will. Kiss Robin. For me. Please?" And the worst thing of all was that she said it nicely, in the voice that made anyone do things for her. Robin knew that voice. That voice was a problem.

"Do I not get a-" Robin began, but it wasn't like it mattered.

"Nope." Marian said. "Will?"

Tuck was looking between them, a gleam in his eye that was only slightly nullified by the booze. He seemed quite excited by it all. 

“I could kill you.” Robin warned, but he doubted he even had the balance in him to stand at that moment.

“Gods, would you  _ shut up.”  _ Will said, and stood. He crossed the circle in two long strides, neatly avoiding the campfire, and dropped to his knees in front of Robin.”You’re an arse.”

“And  _ you _ are a giant prat.” Robin replied, and it was far from the cleverest insult he had ever made, but he didn’t really care.

He didn’t know if he moved forward first, or if it was Will, but suddenly they were kissing - illuminated only by the flickering of the campfire-

And the worst thing was, it  _ wasn’t even bad. _

It was different, yes, he’d never kissed anyone with a beard - no matter what stories the lads in the trenches would tell - but not unpleasant. 

Will tasted like wine, because he was a wanky bitch who wouldn’t just drink the cheap lager the rest of them did, and a little like salt, and he was pushy about it, too, just wanting and waiting and hardly letting him getting an arm in.

The thing was, it wasn’t unpleasant at all.

It took the rest of the lads whistling and Tuck yelling, “Alright lads, break it up ‘fore the ladies get jealous,” to break them apart, and it took Robin a moment to remember where he was. 

Well. That was a problem.

Will didn’t even seem to feel anything. He just shrugged at him, wiped his mouth off with a swipe of his hand, and strolled casually back to the other side of the fire. “Fool or fable, Robin?”

“You absolute  _ cun-”  _ And Robin didn’t remember much more after he’d leapt across the fire and in Will’s general direction.

It wasn’t the smartest way to end an evening, but he wasn’t the brightest of souls anyway.

-

He couldn’t stop looking at Will.

He couldn’t stop looking at Will, and he didn’t even know  _ why. _

He couldn’t remember anything from the night before, just flashes - moments. Scrapping, obviously - because it had been a night with the boys (and he counted Marion in that) around the campfire, pain blossoming across his face, and a touch of sensitivity around his cheeks.

Robin shaved the next morning, balanced precariously on a rock next to the campfire with a cup full of water warming next to the embers, and winced every time he drew the blade across one red patch on his cheek. 

The others were still asleep, but Robin had slept well, senses numbed by the booze, and had woken up, surprisingly, without a headache. 

“Morning.” Will chirped, looking more than a little smug, and sat down opposite him with his own cup and blade. He seemed oddly self-satisfied, despite the exhaustion, and had a large bruise over one plane of his cheek.

“I did that?” Robin gestured across at the bruise with the flat of his blade. If Scarlet was going to be civil, he was going to be too. At least for the moment.

“No, it was John.” Will set about fixing his own blade. “He pulled us apart. You didn’t get a hit in.”

“I didn’t get a-” Robin started, but Will stilled him with an exasperated look.

“Gods, must you always throw yourself into conflict? Why do you insist on starting fights over nothing?” Will dipped his blade into the water and started working on trimming around the edges of his beard. 

Robin sat back, a tad sheepishly. “Don’t know. There’s nothing to do here, no-one to fight, nothing interesting to shoot at. I get jumpy. No way to use up all my energy.”

Will dropped his blade down for a moment and looked over at him, consideringly. “I could think of a few things.”

“If we sparred, you’d lose your head, mate - and that’s not even an insult.” Robin replied, not even really sure what the other man was getting at. “Full respect, I know you can fight, but I’m unmatched by most.”

“Gods, you are dense.” Will shook his head in disbelief. “Any one of the other lads would have gotten it by now. Are you sure you’re the people’s hero, Robin Hood?”

“Fuck off, mate.” Robin reached for his blade again, and that was when he got it. “Scarlet, you’re not- I’m no fai-”

Will rolled his eyes. “You wealthy people and your names for things. Isn’t it just easier to  _ feel? _ ”

“I have Marian.”   
  


“Who has given me her blessing.”

Robin’s jaw dropped. “She wouldn’t-”

“I like her.” Will said, simply. “Despite all odds, I like you too. You did a lot for the people, saved lives, liberated them. It’s an admirable trait.” He shook his head again, this time slower. “Besides, look at you. It’s not as though it’s a hardship to consider it. She has… considered… the idea of the three of us. Together.”

The three of them?

Together. 

The thought wasn’t immediately repulsive, which was saying something. A few months ago he could barely look Will in the eye. 

Funny how times change.

“I-” 

He genuinely didn’t know what to say. 

“I kissed you.” Will said, and held eye contact for a moment too long. “Last night. And you kissed back.” 

And he remembered the night around the campfire, sort of - but it was Will’s words that brought all the memories flooding back. He didn’t know what to think, wasn’t sure how to react, so he just moved his shaving kit to the side and went with his instincts.

They very rarely steered him wrong.

“Mhfpm.” Will grunted, as he got an elbow in the ribs, but he kissed back instead of punching him, which was a very good start.

And together, the three of them, they  _ shone.  _ He and Will still had a bit of anger between them - and especially when Will did something wrong, and it burned hotly when they were together. Marian was their guidance, their rock, but she always gave as good as she got.

_ Yeah,  _ Robin thought, lying sweaty and satiated on their bed,  _ things could be much worse.  _

**Author's Note:**

> the literal movie theatre where i watched this film has closed down in the time since i started writing this, that's how long it took.
> 
> and no, not because of covid.
> 
> check out my [ tumblr ](http://eph-em-era.tumblr.com)


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